Oh My Blaine, I Love Him So
by GeniaTheParadox
Summary: Total crack fic. All the Warblers have taken Blaine's transfer to McKinley hard, but Wes hits rock bottom. Angsty, in an amusingly OTT kind of way.


Okay, this is officially the weirdest thing I have ever written. I feel like I need to justify myself somewhat.

So I was talking to my darling virtual husband, Jono (*waves and blows kisses*) on Twitter about how much Sebastian needs to be punched, which somehow lead to the fact that all the Warblers are obviously Klainers and all our random head canons about them. That somehow lead to our over the top head canons about how the Warblers coped with Blaine transferring to McKinley, most of which were about Wes. I just had to write a totally cracky fic about everything we made up. But Jono gets half the credit for it. Direct 50% of your love to him.

Also, I've been a bit obsessed with _My Man_ since I watched Funny Girl for the first time the other day, which is why it's in this fic. If you were wondering.

Anyway, reviews for this randomness would be nice.

And it's a good thing that I don't own Glee. Otherwise it would just be filthy and insane.

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><p><strong>Oh My Blaine, I Love Him So<strong>

Wes held his phone to his ear, listening to the ringing that seemed to go on for days. And then – _finally _– sweet bliss.

"Hello? _Hello? _I know someone's there, I can hear you breathing. Hello...?"

Wes sighed and hung up, that beautiful voice that he missed so much bringing fresh tears to his eyes. He reached over to pick up his half empty bottle of gin and took a large swig, the liquor burning the back of his throat, but not hurting as much as the pain in his heart. Nothing hurt as much as the void left in his very soul by the absence of Blaine Anderson.

He remembered the moment that Blaine said he was transferring to McKinley. Despair had ripped through every fibre of Wes' being as he smiled encouragingly, wishing Blaine good luck. It was so bittersweet. Blaine was leaving to be with Kurt, which obviously was beyond wonderful. But what was Dalton Academy without Blaine? What was the point of leading the Warbler Council with his trusty gavel if he didn't have Blaine to give all the solos to? All of the Warblers were hurting, of course – Thad cried his eyes out, Trent was a mess, and Nick and Jeff declared that the Warblers should vow to never sing another Katy Perry song again out of respect – but Wes was completely overwhelmed by his crippling angst.

It was only a week later that he dropped out of school and moved to the outskirts of Westerville, into a tiny, roach-ridden one bedroom apartment. He'd spend most of his college money on alcohol and prostitutes, and every night he cried himself to sleep thinking about Blaine. Wes had hit rock bottom – although not as rock bottom as his fellow Council member, David, who lost all faith in humanity after Blaine left and decided to give up on music and go to law school.

Wes drank a little more gin, Blaine's gorgeous voice still in his head, and wiped the tears out of his eyes as he stood up. Everything had been set up in his bedroom for the hooker he'd found earlier that night. Other than the obvious drawback of being a woman, she was perfect. She was small, with short black curls and long dark eyelashes. Her eyes were almost the right shade of startling hazel, and she had tiny little elfin ears. She was quite flat-chested too, so pretending she was a boy wouldn't be too difficult. And she'd said that she was willing to do anything he asked, no matter how freaky, for the right amount of cash.

In his bedroom, Wes had the old Dalton blazer pressed and ready on a hanger, a tub of hair gel (the exact brand that Blaine always used), and a piping hot medium drip fresh from the Lima Bean, so she'd taste right. He put some music on as he cleaned his large strap on with some wet wipes, quietly singing along to Barbra Streisand but tweaking the lyrics slightly so they were more appropriate to his own plight.

"_Oh my Blaine, I love him so... he'll never know... all my life is just despair... but I don't care..." _

He directed his earnest words to the frame photograph of Blaine on his bedside table, tears stinging his eyes, before his heartbreaking ballad was interrupted by a knock on the door. Through the dark cloud of misery engulfing him, Wes got up and went to answer. The liquor made him unsteady on his feet, but he didn't care. When he opened the door there was the girl he'd found on that street corner. Now that he looked at her she didn't seem so perfect, but really that was just because she wasn't Blaine. There was only one Blaine Anderson. Not a single lookalike prostitute Wes had found could compare to the real thing. He led the girl into his bedroom.

"So you said you had some special requests," she said, taking off her tatty faux fur coat and leaving it on the chair. "I'm up for anything, so long as the money's right. You'd be surprised at some of the crazy shit guys have asked me for, so nothing scares me. What's your kink, babe?"

Wes took the Dalton blazer off the hanger and gave it to her. "I need to you to take your clothes off and put this on please."

She arched an eyebrow but did as she was told, stripping off what little clothing she was wearing and putting on the blazer, which was slightly too large for her. Wes got the tub of hair gel – his Blaine's hair gel – and a comb.

"I'm going to have to do your hair," he said, his eloquent words slightly slurred by the alcohol. "I need to get it just right."

"Oh... okay," she said slowly.

He sat her down on a chair and got to work gelling and styling her short dark hair, making it look exactly like the real thing from memory. The more he looked at her, the less she looked like Blaine. Her eyes weren't quite the right colour, her long lashes were fake, her eyebrows weren't triangular enough – but he was in no position to complain. Beggars can't be choosers. Finally her hair was gelled to perfection and he took a sniff of it. She smelt just like Blaine now. He picked up the cup of now lukewarm coffee and handed it to her.

"Drink this please," he said politely. "Don't worry, it's just coffee."

She looked at him quizzically, but didn't argue as she took the medium drip and drank it. Wes waited patiently until she'd finished the whole cup. He then picked up the strap on and handed it to her.

"Put this on please," he said. "I'm going to need you to top."

She raised her eyebrows. "Oh wow... alright then."

She attached the strap on to herself, chuckling a little bit as she looked down at the large dildo jutting out of her crotch. Wes took another swig of gin and took his clothes off, lying down on the bed and getting the half empty bottle of lube from his bedside cabinet.

"Can you do one more thing for me please?" he asked.

"Yeah, sure," she said with a shrug.

"Can you, erm..." he muttered "Can you throw that pile of paper over there in the air, and say 'Oh yeah!' like the beginning of that Maroon 5 song, _Misery_? And can you climb on the furniture too? Like, on my chair and stuff?"

She looked deeply confused. "Erm... okay then."

Just as she went to pick up the pile of paper, Wes desperately added "Also, can I call you Blaine Warbler?"

"But my name is Kandy," she said, baffled.

"Yeah, but I need to call you Blaine Warbler," Wes insisted. "Can I call you Blaine Warbler please?"

She sighed, clearly wanting to just get this over and done with. "Fine, whatever. Call me what you want."

Wes sat up. "S-so you need to sing 'Oh yeah!' just like in the song and then throw the paper in the air, okay? And then you need to climb on the furniture, sort of like an excited puppy, and then you can come on the bed. Does, erm... does that sound alright?"

"Yeah, sure," she shrugged. "I mean, it sounds fucking insane, but whatever gets you off, honey."

She did as she was told as Wes prepared his ass with some lube. She really wasn't as good as Blaine, but nobody was. He let his mind wonder, let his imagination do the work until it was his Blaine prancing around his little bedroom. Once she was on the bed, Wes kissed her, tasting that medium drip, and then lay on his stomach and let her fuck him with the strap on, looking up at the photo of Blaine beside the bed the whole time.

"Oh, Blaine," he moaned. "Oh God, Blaine, don't stop... fuck me, Blaine Warbler... love me, Blaine Warbler!"

When he finally reached his climax, leaving a sticky pool of jizz on his bed sheets, his tears of unending sorrow were once again burning his eyes. He cleaned himself up as she took off the blazer and the strap on and put her clothes back on, still looking at him like he was completely nuts. She gladly accepted the wad of cash he handed her and left the filthy apartment without a backwards glance.

Wes sat on the edge of his bed, holding his photo of Blaine and silently sobbing, missing him so much that it was unbearably. He imagined Blaine in his cute everyday clothes, hand in hand with Kurt at McKinley, and sobbed even harder. He wasn't jealous – the fact that Blaine and Kurt were happily together and in love made his heart swell with unimaginable joy, and if they were ever to break up he probably wouldn't be able to survive the agony of it – but he just wished that he could see Blaine again. Suddenly his phone rang, his ringtone (a recording of Blaine singing _Teenage Dream _with the rest of the Warblers) making him jump.

He cleared his throat and wiped his eyes. "Hello?"

"W-Wes?" said a small voice.

"Thad?" he said. "Is that you?"

"Yeah," Thad said, sounding as if he was crying. "Wes, I... I can't believe it... I c-can't believe y-you weren't here..."

"What?" Wes asked anxiously. "What happened? What's wrong?"

"Nothing wrong," Thad sobbed. "N-nothing wrong at all... Wes... Blaine v-v-visited us today."

Wes felt as if someone had just stabbed him in the heart with a rusty screwdriver. "...what?"

"Blaine," Thad wept. "H-he came to D-Dalton... and we... we w-were rehearsing a n-new number... he watched... and... and joined in a little and... oh God, it was wonderful, Wes, truly wonderful! He was w-wearing a cardigan and a b-b-b-bowtie and everything, he was so cute! He invited us all t-to his opening night of _West Side Story_ at M-McKinley, h-he's playing Tony which is s-s-so amazing, and... and... oh, Wes, I forgot how p-pretty his eyes were! God, I missed him so mu-huh-huh-huch!"

Wes couldn't believe it. He couldn't believe that his Blaine had stepped back into the hallowed halls of Dalton Academy, if only for a visit, and he had missed it. He had missed out on seeing Blaine one more time because he was too busy being fucked by some pale imitation. He could have heard that beautiful voice again, seen those eyes, smelt that hair gel... but no. He'd missed it. Once Thad had finished weeping and had hung up, Wes curled up on his bed with _My Man_ on repeat, crying his eyes out as he clung onto his framed picture of Blaine, his most prized possession, and wailing along to the song in between large gulps of liquor.

"_For whatever my Blaine is, I am his forevermore!"_

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><p>Hope you enjoyed the randomness, Humble Readers.<br>And I hope you found our head canons as hilariously mad as I did, Jono, my dear.

xxx


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